


Trypanophobia

by park3rborn



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Angst, Crying, Fainting, Fear, Fluff, Foggy is a Good Boyfriend, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Matt has a panic attack, Needles, PDA, POV Third Person Limited, Panic Attacks, Pet Names, Phobias, Snuggling, Stick is terrible and I hate him with my whole heart, Tones of smut but not really, Trypanophobia, author sucks at keeping narration in same style, being blind doesn't have that many perks, doctors are assholes, sort of., tactile romance, the red suit is not in this universe. go black ninja pj suit!, unnamed possible disease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 20:07:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4450478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/park3rborn/pseuds/park3rborn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt has to get some bloodwork done. He fights drug lords and flips off of buildings in the middle of the night in pajamas. How hard could it be?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A side note: this might become mature in the 3rd chapter (if I write it).

“No, you don’t understand. It… it isn’t pleasant, so if we could avoid blood-work at all costs, it would be best for everyone involved.”

“Can’t you just not look? – oh, sorry…”

“That didn’t work before this, and it still doesn’t work. I’ve tried,” Matt explained, mildly annoyed at this point. But not surprised.

“It’s very important, Mr. Murdock. We have to make sure there isn't anything going wrong.”

* * *

 

Matt had a developing case of needle phobia a while before he became blind. It started with agitation whenever he had to get a vaccine, and becoming tense when doctors drew blood. After the accident, he spent a long while in the hospital, getting tested and poked and prodded and stabbed for weeks until they cleared him. He was sedated for the most of his stay, mostly because he was in constant, high pain. His skin felt raw. He could feel the IVs pushing fluids through his own veins, could feel every bandage and sticky spot on his body. Everything was too loud, especially his heart monitor, which never stopped beeping. He dreamt about the shrill monster. His eyes burned. Hospital food tasted even more gross than usual, and even subtle smells were overpowering (two of the nurses shacked up at least once a week, from what Matt could tell).

On the occasion whoever his doctor of the day decided that Matt should be awake for x or y tests involving needles, they almost always ended up sedating him again. Although he couldn’t see the needle, he could now hear whatever liquid or lacktherof was in it. He could smell it: the nauseating hospital smell mixed with sharp medical grade stainless steel. And even his skin could feel it, like a ghost, from across the room. It was even worse than before, because now everything posed a threat.

Years later, Matt still hated needles. The very idea of getting a shot or the possibility of needing blood-work terrified him to the bone. To lots of people, it was a stupid thing. Matt Murdock, whose dad was freaking Battlin’ Jack Murdock, couldn’t handle something as simple as needles? To those who knew him more intimately, like Claire, Matt surmised that it seemed even more of a stupid fear. He jumped off of buildings, got the shit beat out of him almost daily, and ran around in black PJs in the middle of the night, bound to get hit by a car. How could someone who could do such dangerous and scary stunts be afraid of something so small? Matt couldn’t explain it. Nobody could.

When he was a kid, having a panic attack was much simpler. His dad would wrap his strong arms around him, holding him down, and would murmur firm and soothing words to his son. Except now Matt was actually dangerous. His dad was long gone and now Matt was a full grown adult. It would take at least five nurses to hold him down at this point, and only if he wasn’t moving. The last thing Matt wanted to do was hurt someone innocent, especially when they were just trying to do their jobs. But he couldn’t help it. Rational, talented lawyer Matthew Murdock went far away once the terror sprouted. The devil came out.

* * *

 

Matt could feel, deep in his gut, that today was going to be a very bad day.

“Well, you come in tomorrow at 9,” the doctor said, scribbling something down on a pad of paper (probably a reminder card that Matt would technically not use), tearing the paper off, “And we’ll just figure it out from there. These issues are not something to laugh at, and even if you don’t have them, it’s better safe than sorry. And remember, it’s fasting.”

_Yeah, great._

 


	2. Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt has a panic attack and Foggy comes over.  
> Non-graphic mention of suicidal tendencies in characters.

 Matt called Foggy at midnight that night. He had made it through the entire rest of his day after the doctor’s appointment. He went back to the office, made small talk with Karen and Foggy, suggested new cases for them to take on, and drank Karen's frankly disgusting coffee. Like everything was normal. He had managed to keep himself busy enough all day to ignore the impending situation. But now, he was cold, he couldn’t drink or eat anything, and he was lonely. As he lay in bed, his mind whirred and stirred up all sorts of bad memories, and Matt felt his body start to panic before his mind. 

“Matt? What’s up?” Foggy picked up on the second ring, sounding a little groggy.

Matt took a small breath, allowing Foggy’s voice to anchor him, “C-can you come over?”  _Fuck._

“Yeah baby, I’ll be over in like ten. Everything okay?”

Matt’s intention was to just give a nonchalant grunt, but it came out as a little bit of a whine.

“I’m leaving right now, babe. Sit tight.”

Foggy was there in 7, probably breaking some traffic laws in the process, but no cops were around and nobody was in the streets, so nobody knew the difference. He was worried, to say the least. The last time Matt called him over, upset, in the middle of the night, he had to talk Matt off of the ledge. Everything had been okay, hadn’t it? Nothing weird? Claire had given him a bunch of hospital papers about suicide prevention and signs that a loved one was suicidal. Nothing came to mind at that moment as a warning sign. Matt would be okay, wouldn’t he?

Claire had gifted Foggy her spare key to Matt’s place once she found out they were dating. He lived closer to him and he could always call Claire if Matt was in trouble. It just made sense. Thank God for Claire.

He practically sprinted to the door and let himself in, turning on a light, and headed downstairs to find Matt laying on his side, back to Foggy, on his silk sheets.

“Matty?” Foggy called softly, making his way to the bed.

Matt gave out a shuddering inhale and rolled over. He was in an undershirt and his boxers, but hadn’t taken off his glasses, which was unusual. Then Foggy noticed the tears coming from under his glasses.

“Oh, baby…” he pulled up a chair and took a seat next to the bed. Even knowing about Matt’s super-senses, he was still nervous about startling his blind boyfriend. They had figured out early on in their romantic relationship that Matt wasn’t into unsolicited bodily restriction, even from someone he knew. So Foggy gave him space.

“Foggy,” Matt slurred out, a breaking smile on his face. He tentatively held out a hand towards Foggy, signaling his consent for touch.

Foggy grasped his hand gently and kissed the heated skin. “Baby, what’s wrong?” He carefully removed Matt’s glasses.

Matt’s eyes were red and glazed, flicking as his body and mind started to go into a nervous frenzy. unsteady breathing quickened, and his whole body shook as he tried to hold in terrified sobs. His heart was pounding and his skin was on fire. Foggy couldn’t see him like this. 

 _You’re fucking weak!_  came an angry voice in his head. Stick.  _You’re showing him just how pathetic you are. You’re scared of what? Fucking needles? Imagine what Fisk would say if he knew. Fucking pathetic. I should beat your stupid ass for being so weak._

Foggy stood up and, maintaining physical contact with the blind man the whole way, moved to lay on the bed with Matt. He wouldn’t get any words out of him in this state, and the least he could do was try to calm Matt down. He was scared of what someone who literally kicked asses as a job could be so afraid of, but he tried to not let Matt know that. At least in his voice and physical actions.

With Matt’s back to him, he gently placed kisses all along his neck and shoulders. He softly rubbed the small of his back and asked if Matt wanted Foggy to tell him a story to distract him for a little while. A snuffle and a nod came from Matt. 

Foggy told Matt about his week. He went on about how he met a lovely older Indian lady on the bus who spoke Punjabi and how she thought his Punjabi was actually pretty good for a white guy. He told him about how she had come from India thirty years ago and how she felt Punjabi-speakers were almost impossible to find, and she missed home. She missed eating real Indian food, and being able to celebrate Diwali in Delhi with her ancestors. She told Foggy about how she liked New York, but she wanted to see her parents again in their home. 

Matt was able to refocus onto the story and control his breathing. He felt like he probably looked like a feeble excuse for a man, and absently thought of how lucky he was to have such a good boyfriend. He flipped over so that his face was closer to Foggy's, and cautiously put out his hands. Being able to feel someone physically helped him stay grounded, he learned in therapy, and helped him remember that other people exist in his world. Being able to hear and smell people was fine when he could pay attention outside himself, but tonight he was scared. He needed his rock.

Foggy clasped Matt's shaking hands and brought them to the bridge of his nose, allowing Matt to lightly run his fingers over his face. Matt sighed softly as he made his way around the blond's face and neck, able to reaffirm his mental picture of his boyfriend. His hands lingered around his Adam's apple. Foggy would never say it out loud, but it turned him on. Matt could probably tell anyways.

Clearing his throat anxiously, Foggy asked cautiously, "Matt, what was wrong? Whose ass do I need to kick?"

Matt laughed, a small exhale of air, but a laugh nonetheless.

"Seriously baby, what's on your mind?"

Eyebrows furrowing, Matt took his time to form actual words. He moved in closer to Foggy's ear and mumbled, "I'm afraid, Foggy. I'm so-- _fuck_!" his voice cracked and he buried his face into Foggy's neck, trying to center himself again. 

"Was it something I said?" Foggy murmured into Matt's hair. Matt hummed a no. In Foggy's best calm-lawyer voice, he asked, "Was it something at the doctor's?" Matt's body shook, and he took it as an affirmative.

 _Are you really going to tell him that you're scared of a fucking needle?_ Matt couldn't escape Stick, even when he was long gone from Hell's Kitchen.  _Aren't you supposed to be the strong one? That's what I trained you for. You're a disappointment, I should never have taken your sorry ass out of--_

"Babe, I can't help you if you don't talk to me." Foggy's voice cut off his mind's train of thought. "Are you sick? Did something happen?"

 _Just spit it out already_ , Matt thought angrily to himself.  _Use your words._ "I, ah.." he started, pushing back from Foggy, "There's something I, um..."

"I have my best concerned eyebrows going on right now," Foggy told Matt, trying to keep it light.

"This is going to sound fucking stupid, but, um," Matt clenched his jaw and took a breath, "I have trypanophobia."

"Bless you."

"No, it's, um, it's needle phobia."

"Seriously?" Foggy's voice sounded mocking and it pissed Matt off.

"Yeah," he replied, as curt as someone who just had a panic attack could sound. "They ordered blood-work for me yesterday and I- I'm supposed to go in in the morning."

"The blind guy who does backflips and fights drug lords is afraid of needles."

"Yes, _thank you_  Foggy for reminding me," replied Matt sarcastically.

"Sorry babe, it's just... weird for me to think about."

Matt let out an irritated sigh and turned over. 

"I'm sorry baby," Foggy instantly apologized, "I'm sorry, I'm such a dick." 

"Yeah, that was pretty dickish of you. I get that shit from doctors all the time, I just didn't expect my best friend to give it to me too."

"Everyone is scared of something," Foggy offered, "Like, for instance, I heard that Captain America is scared of spiders." Matt huffed. "And, um, I'm claustrophobic. I'm scared of friggen car washes. I mean, that's pretty dumb, right?"

Matt hmmed.

"What can I do for you, Matt?" 

Matt shifted back over to face Foggy, eyes searching for Foggy's general direction. "I need you to come with me."

"Of course. What time?"

"Nine. What time is it now?"

"It's one. Do you need anything else?"

"Yeah," Matt brought his face close to Foggy's, smiling mischievously. "Yeah, I think I do."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might smut it up in another chapter, or I could leave it like this. I don't know.   
> Meh? This all sounded great in my head, but on paper? I dunno.  
> Leave comments and kudos and whatever and you'll get my undying love.  
> Also if you see any mistakes, let me know. I don't beta my works and I wrote 95% of this while very tired.

**Author's Note:**

> So we set the stage. It was a short chapter, I know. But I wrote it in the middle of the night. The good stuff starts in chapter 2.


End file.
